


Skintight

by Loz



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Knotting, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 14:31:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1691696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loz/pseuds/Loz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for the 'Beast Within' challenge in Mating Games. Er, this is here as a quick pwp apology while I'm working on the next chapter of The Killer in Me is the Killer in You.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Skintight

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 'Beast Within' challenge in Mating Games. Er, this is here as a quick pwp apology while I'm working on the next chapter of The Killer in Me is the Killer in You.

Stiles stretches out beneath him, moaning rich and low. His skin is salty sweet against Scott’s tongue, heated against his lips. Scott smiles as he presses another open mouthed kiss against the nubs of his spine. 

“Stop being so smug,” Stiles croaks out, voice more wrecked than anything else. Slow and sated too. Scott can’t help but feel just a little proud. Okay, very proud. Pride is a state of being for him now and he really doesn’t think it’s a vice.

“What makes you think I’m smug?” Scott whispers back, sounding just as husky. 

“I know you.”

He grins again and drags his teeth against Stiles’ shoulder blade. He loves the contrast of all of his body’s angles with his smooth softness. They perfectly mirror Stiles as a person, who so often is kind but not nice, joking but not funny, honest but not truthful. 

Scott takes a deep breath and attempts to ease away, but he’s still stuck fast. His knot catches at Stiles’ rim and the sensation is electric, his nerves singing with it. He imagines what it looks like, the tender pink push of muscle and skin. He shudders as he traces their connection with his fingertips, presses another series of kisses against Stiles’ vertebrae. Stiles clutches at his arm, but doesn’t sound pained in his grumbling.

“Not yet,” he says. “Not even if you could. I want you in me.”

“Aren’t you uncomfortable?” Scott asks, mostly because he wants to hear the negative. 

Discovering that Stiles was as into this as he is was the best thing to happen to him in years. He didn’t think he’d get to know happiness again, something uncomplicated and freeing. It seems weird that this physical attachment, a physiological inability to pull away, can feel so much like an escape. In these moments he’s got more choice than in anything else in his life and he chooses to hold Stiles fast and never let go.

“You know I’m not,” Stiles says back, and Scott can hear his smile. “Feels too good.”

Stiles wriggles his hips in time with the ‘good’, has Scott hissing at the tug of skin on skin. He thinks he could come again and it’s only been half the time they’re usually joined, it should be impossible. They haven’t tried before. He bucks forward tentatively, drags his hand down to pull Stiles’ leg wider. Stiles rocks into it, lets out a choked laugh and something that could be the word ‘yeah’. Scott wants to kiss his mouth, but the angles are all wrong. They’ll have time for that later, when they’re finally disentangled, Stiles dragging his hands into his hair and wrenching him down; licking, sucking, biting at his lips. Stiles always gets wild with it and Scott likes that it isn’t calculated, that it’s correlation not causation, Stiles just always kisses like he’s on the edge of desperation.

Scott thrusts as steady as he can, incremental but so, so overwhelming, the clutch and hold of Stiles like everything he’s always been afraid to want. He reaches around and finds that Stiles is already hard and wet. It makes him groan, the sound reverberating between them. He wants to bring Stiles off, wants to bring him everything good he’s been given. 

They move together in perfect syncopation, until Scott can feel that Stiles is close. He works him harsher, faster, because that’s what Stiles needs. He’s tight and perfect around him, and Scott’s hips snap harder, his grinding more frenzied. 

Stiles stiffens, then trembles, come spurting all over Scott’s knuckles, sliding down between his fingers. He makes a sound like a whimper and Scott doesn’t think he can hold on for much longer, wants to hear that sound again and again. He braces his arms against Stiles’ sides and gentles during his aftershocks, sucking in deep, chest-wracking breaths.

“C’mon, Scotty,” Stiles urges, voice even lower and rougher than before. 

And that’s all it takes. Scott bites down on a shout and comes, pumping into Stiles, half of him insensible, the other half concentrating on thoughts of _mark, claim, mine_. Stiles stretches out beneath him and Scott thinks he could stay like this forever.


End file.
